


Their Lord and Their Lady Wolf

by r_j_l



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Outsider Perspective, just a bit.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-03-06 13:18:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18851866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r_j_l/pseuds/r_j_l
Summary: The servants and household of Storm's End have their questions about what exactly their lord and the lady wolf are to each other at first but slowly they learn the truth.This'll be max 10 chapters maybe less.





	1. Chapter 1

The household of Storm's End take to their new lord instantly. A somber and kind man, he listens more than speaks, and his actions say more than he ever does. Never drinking anything stronger than watered down ale he does not seem to have the temper his father was known for.

One of the maids, then the rest begin to think him more like good Renly than his father. Never taking any woman to bed or acting like he has any passions at all save his forge. More often than not that's where he lays down in the evening, on an old bed he had moved into a storage room of the forge, upon his arrival, forgoing the Lord's Chambers almost entirely.

They all think him strangely involved at first. Pitching in when his strength or another set of hands are needed and often when it's unnecessary. The men realize it first, but he is a man who needs to be working, can't sit for too long without going stir crazy. It makes learning to read and write a challenge for him and for Ser Davos, but he latches on to the old histories, fascinated.

\------

Four months after he arrives she visits for the first time. A friend he calls her, one that he's clearly known for years.

The woman has barely seen 20 years and has been heralded with as many names for her heroism, but those older members of the household who have been serving for most of their lives can only see the she-wolf reborn. They mistrust her based solely on the association, their lord's father dragged the kingdoms into chaos for her aunt, and none are keen on history repeating itself. Those feelings are snuffed out within days of her arrival.

\------

Only a fool could miss the change she brings out in their lord. A once seemingly passionless man dotes on the woman he spends his days with. Breaking their fast in the castle yard together, they spend more time sparring than eating. Their lord, only stopping to take a break to eat when a few of the more headstrong young men of the castle take up the challenge. They fail, as does their lord, they're all surprised save their lord who only stares at her after like she is the only person in the yard.

The expression on his face and the light of his eyes is recognizable by every woman who has ever known the true love of a man. Likewise, the wolf studies their lord when she doesn't think he's watching a look of pure desire in her eyes. Amused in his company, she is silent when alone; both are simply happier when together. He does not neglect any of his duties or lessons, but she's never too far from him, watching as he works.

They spend a week touring and exploring the passages of Storm's End, his laughter heard throughout the castle and grounds. Some of the apprentices find them in the forge one morning as he presents her with a sword, the first that he made on his arrival, it's hung on the wall of the forge since then, it's always been perfectly proportioned to her smaller size.

\------

The old and greyed maester is the first to inquire after their friendship, and perhaps hinting a bit too much that their familiarity could be seen as inappropriate.

Their young lord just sighs, "We saved each other so many times, have been through hell and faced death and lived, I don't know what you expect me to do, act like I don't know her as well as I do?" 

"I'd have you two marry, make her the Lady of Storm's End. You both clearly love each other," he says trying to show their lord the reasonable solution.

"If you think I am capable of making Arya Stark do anything then you truly do not understand wild wolves," he explains while laughing and then walks off to the forge where the lady in question is already waiting. His departure doesn't mean the maester misses the fact that their lord didn't address the actual questions at hand.

\------

He gives anyone and every one the warning to only call her Arya. Those who don't heed his words hear it again from the woman herself just much more harshly. By the end of the week only the oldest and most stubborn people of the castle still insist on the title.

This whole situation is made even more strange that he calls her m'lady when they believe themselves to be alone, that she sometimes giggles when he says it is very telling.

\------

The laundresses notices it first, midway through the second week after her arrival, the proof of what is happening between their good lord and the realm's savior. The lack of messed covers of the bed the lady has been given and the scent and stains unmistakenly from a coupling that adorn the sheets of their lord from his proper chambers.

She brews her own tea in the early mornings; it's the only things she does in the room she's been given, she certainly doesn't sleep there. If she had, there would be no need of the tea that steeps in her cups. The lingering scent of it distinctive, there is no doubt among the women of the household as to what is going on.

One of the apprentices discovers them in the forge once during those first few weeks. Half dressed and laughing into kisses that would undoubtedly be leading to more within minutes. They're spotted some mornings coming out of the forge in last evening's clothes, no doubt making good use of the bed that was placed in one of the back storerooms months before.

\------

The maid that serves her during her stay complains of mud stains on every garment the woman owns but has courage enough after a time, to ask the wolf of her obviously hard life. She doesn't say much about it later, only letting one phrase slip from her lips "They've been through so much," a tear falling down her face. 

\------

When she leaves after a visit just short of three moons, she makes a point to have all the other lord's of the Stormlands know the worst kept secret in the entire castle. They sit together during the feast, side by side, like the Lord and Lady of Storm's End should be, on the eve of her departure and nearing the end of the night she kisses him in front of all the proper lords and ladies of the Stormlands. All their happy lord does is pull away from her for a fraction of a moment, look around the room, a smile on his lips, and then he kisses her in return.

After that night there are no schemes or whispers of a betrothal to a southern lady. It's been made clear, their lord already belongs to the fierce warrior wolf who brought the dawn, and no lord wants to challenge her claim. 

\------

She takes with her the servant that had been courageous enough to ask for a portion of her story — only agreeing when Arya promises to both train her with a sword and that they would be returning to Storm's End often so she will be able to visit her family. They are friends, traveling companions, neither of them need a maid.

\------

He sulks, clearly missing her frightfully, working in his forge from dawn to dusk for the first four days afterward. He follows her path to the capital a fortnight after her departure, the day after a raven arrived in the night. The maester swears it only contained two words. "Miss you."


	2. Chapter 2

Their Lord arrives back alone a month later but in altogether renewed spirits. Tackling with enthusiasm a list of improvements that are written in another's hand as well as projects that had gone by the wayside during the wolf's visit.

Most are confused and disappointed that he's come back alone. When one of the guards asks Ser Davos if he knows what caused the rift between the two, the answer is so very encouraging. 

"No rift. What gave you that idea?" he says positively puzzled.

Feeling foolish for even asking he wishes he could just walk away, but he tries to explain, "She didn't come back with him, many thought they would come back together, perhaps married." 

"It's a fine idea, but neither of them is ready for that, at least not yet. They don't know who they are in a land that is not constantly at war. Give them time," the man says before walking off.

\------

Wolf howls become a discordant song every evening a few weeks later. Sightings of a pack so large it can only be the one that roamed the Riverlands for years. 

\------

Only the men venture out at the loud wolf howls coming from the gates. It's the first time any one of them have seen a direwolf, except their lord and Ser Davos. Some of the pack remain howling in the treeline.

The wolf has a body in its mouth, watching them all before stepping close to their lord and dropping the corpse in front of him, like a proud pup. Then staying at his side growling at any who attempt to come near. 

There is tension in their lord as he rolls the woman's body over, placing a hand to their neck, he skims his fingers along her neck, muttering to himself, "Please let me be wrong about this."

Stopping short, he lifts the face off the body, a mask really, exposing the body's true face. 

Still holding the face in his hand their lord turns to the nearest man, "Store the body in a cold cellar," then turning to the wolf at his side petting the wolf softly, "Nymeria with me, stay close." 

\------

Gathered in the hall, Ser Davos is the first to speak, "Maester we need a raven sent to Arya immediately."

That makes their lord pause as he paces back and forth from one side of the chamber to the other, "She's already on her way, she must already know, Nymeria wouldn't be here with the body otherwise."

Everyone turns to where the wolf is lying down at the foot of Arya's usual seat in the hall, the one that's remained empty since she left. "You don't know that lad, wolves protect the pack," Ser Davos says softly.

"You don't think I know that? I can't spread this information; she'd kill me," their lord says, turning his head away from the wolf and back to the rest of the men in the room. 

He sighs when no one decides to tell him he's wrong, "If she's not here in two days, we'll send a raven, and I'll be writing that letter myself." He leaves the hall then, the wolf at his back.

\------

Whispers spread throughout the castle that night — the conclusion is that the dead person was once an assassin from Braavos.

\------

The guards outside the lord's chambers say she arrived just before dawn broke the next day.

It's entirely silent inside for hours before the explosive fight begins. No one had experienced their lord yelling so loud about anything before this, the fury indeed, from them both.

He's not mad or angry, just upset and worried that the lady plans to walk right into a trap.

"It's the waif's face. Yes. They're trying to tell me something," she screams as she opens the chamber door, her wolf behind her and their lord right behind them.

"Do you think I'd be dead if not for the pack?" he yells at her back.

She shakes her head, pausing in her run, where she's been going down the steps two at a time. "I don't know. I don't think they would use a face I knew if they were after you. I need to see the body and find where they were camped before the pack got to her. If they were after you, there won't be anything for me to find. If they're here to send me a message, there might be something."

\------

There's a scroll found on the body, no one but the wolf and their lord know it's contents, it's burned as soon as they return upstairs but whatever it said must be enough to convince them that the wolf's planned journey to Braavos isn't a death sentence. There is no fighting between the couple, at least, nothing quite as loud as what transpired early in the morning waking up most of the household.

\------

She's convinced by their lord to stay a week, which quickly turns into two. There is no room prepared for her this time. 

Settling into the routine of the months before, she trains with the guards again and begins teaching some of the interested women in some basic sword fighting techniques. When she leaves, it's with a promise to return, and they will pick up where they left off.

Her traveling companion is to stay with her family in the Stormlands while the wolf is away. 

Fourteen days pass, and many people gather to see her off again and wish her well on the voyage. Three new sheathed daggers are placed into her saddlebag by their lord before he envelops the woman in his arms, and she holds on just as tight. 

"I won't loose you, not again," he says softly, only those closest hearing his words.

Her reply is even softer, "You won't."

They part eventually, because they must but not before a kiss gets a little too heated, Ser Davos clearing his throat to alert the young couple to the others watching them even though the display clearly amuses him. 

She's to leave through Weeping Town, and for the first day, the wolves travel with her, returning on the eve of the second day and staying. 

\------

One of the younger servants, no more than fifteen doesn't understand why their lord allowed her to go so far away and the head housemaid must explain softly to the lad, "The last time a stag claimed to love a wolf, it was only with shallow feelings. The same can't be said this time. This time he knows he can't control her and he doesn't wish to. They believe she'll come back from this. For now, that is enough for them both; it has to be."

\------

They wait as does their lord. After eight weeks a letter arrives by ship. Included inside is a crude drawing of a bull, it makes their lord laugh more than anything else has since she left.

\------

She returns shortly after the letter arrives, and they're never parted for longer than two months after the third visit. The one that began without any proper protocol followed, she gives no chance for anyone to treat her as a guest. She rides in alone during a true thunderstorm on a magnificent Dornish sand steed. The tanned Arya calls over the youngest stable hand by name before handing him the reigns and simply entering the castle as if it were her home, her bags on her shoulders.

Those who saw it say that she went straight up to the Lord's Chambers, greeting everyone as she met them on the stairs and upon reaching his door opened it without knocking as if it was her own chamber. She doesn't even bother shutting the door all the way, a slim crack remaining.

The two brave enough to sneak a peek at the couple a few minutes later when it is still and quiet inside the room find them in the lord's bath, his arms wrapped around her, speaking softly enough to each other that no one can hear their words. She turns to look at the door after a minute, calling out by name to one of the maids, the steward, and a quietly laughing Ser Davos to please close the door. There's laughter behind both sides of the door as it's shut.

The danger has passed.


	3. Chapter 3

The word betrothed is used much more often around the castle after she returns. It possibly has to do with the slight changes in the way they interact. They both reach for each other more often in public now, not bothering to hide anything from anyone, just wanting to be together.

Some of the servants believe they must have married on one of their trips to the capital and just never told anyone. It seems far fetched, but from the way they act around each other, no one can deny that something has changed. It’s possible it’s just the natural progression of any romantic relationship except that for most they’d be married already.

He calls her my dear and even sometimes beautiful now, two terms of endearment they’ve never heard him use before. She’s just gone straight for his heart and calls him love, particularly when it seems she wants his focus on her or to make him come back out of his thoughts, it’s a wonderful thing watching their lord melt for his wolf. 

\------

There's a necklace that their lord has been working on for months, made for her by the finest jeweler in the Stormlands, designed by their lord himself and crafted in a way to look like antlers. A portion of each of the two antlers twists off, attached to each is a sharp pin. Each compartment the pins sit in is designed to contain a liquid poison. 

The day it arrives she's training the women in the yard in a light rainstorm. Letting them have a break when their lord arrives clearly looking to speak with her.

She sheathes her swords, and he puts it in her hands, the gold of it catching what little light there is, "You're not trying to make me into a stag are you, love?"

"Arya I couldn't even if I tried," he says cupping her face in his hands and tilting her head up for a kiss, "Wolves kill stags; it happens every day if the wolves are lucky. I wouldn't take that power from you." Showing her the pin compartment on each side. "Beautiful and deadly."

Her mouth opens in surprise, but she recovers quickly, handing it back to him and turning away while lifting her hair. "Arming me again?"

Opening the clasp, he maneuvers it around, closing the clasp shut while saying, "It's a hobby of mine you know, making sure you're equipped to be as lethal as possible."

It somehow looks right on top of her rain-soaked tunic.

"Excuse us we're done for today," she says, turning with a smile to the women who have stopped to watch the couple. 

No one sees them for nearly a day after, and no one is surprised. They were, after all, spotted on the stairs, his shirt reportedly missing and her nails raking along his back not two minutes later.

\------

Some of the castle staff have started trying to work out a timeline of their relationship. The Brotherhood, red-witch, and hot pie are all small snippets of conversation, strange words, that are caught but mean little to those who hear it. They know for certain they met when they were both headed north and then separated at a certain point.

\------

Nearly fifteen months since the Lord's arrival and a new baker and his wife, heavy with child, find their way into the kitchens. At first, no one realizes who the man is, but soon their kind lord spends more time in the kitchens than he's ever had before, simply talking to the new baker. 

"Arya was traveling in the Riverlands again and told me that Storm's End could use me and with my Ivy in her condition it wasn't even a question of joining my friends here."

When pressed for more, he reveals the context to some of the hushed whispers of the wolf and stag's past when they were young. Some of the younger women think it the most romantic love story, better than the songs. Others pity them the hardships they faced so young. They all want more details, particularly about how they were reunited, including their old friend.

\------

They've all become very protective of their lord and their lady wolf's relationship. Any slight that is uttered about the pair below stairs is noted and is handled efficiently. There's a list of lords and ladies who's servants have revealed that their masters don't approve, and if that list makes it into Ser Davos or Lady Arya's hand whenever it is updated, well, it's better if they not be invited back for a while at least.

\------

He sees the direwolf asleep on the floor of the library before he sees the top of the lady's head nestled into the animal's fur. "Lady Arya have you seen Lord Baratheon I haven't seen him since midday," he asks before stepping into the room, always wise with the wolves around.

"He's in here maester," she replies, a calm tone in her voice.

Stepping into the room further and over the tail of the wolf, he sees them now, a book in the lady's left hand and her right running fingers through the lord's hair. His head, resting in her lap, asleep on his side.

"Oh, is he alright?" Still surprised at them even though he knows he shouldn't be by now. 

She shakes her head slowly, and he realizes that at this moment, she's the most defenseless he has ever seen her while still being armed at her thighs with daggers, "Didn't sleep well. Nightmares."

He's about to speak when she interrupts him, "We both have them sometimes," the honesty in her eyes as she looks up at him shakes him, "You can know something is in the past, but that doesn't mean it won't still linger in your mind forever."

"Lady Arya, is there anything I can do?" he starts to think to offer dream wine, but before he can, she stops him with a shake of her head.

"I'm afraid not," she says, looking back down at their lord. 

There's a moment when he considers just leaving them and returning later, but the lady must remember that it was he who came in search of their lord, not looking up at him she asks, "Is there something I should tell him when he wakes?"

Taking the scroll from his sleeve, he walks close enough to hand it to her, "A raven arrived from Winterfell, addressed to you both."

She puts down the book to take it, a mischievous smirk growing on her lips, "Thank you for not opening it this time, I heard you opened the wrong raven recently."

What he wouldn't give to go back to that day and not open that damned letter, "That was my error; it will not happen again."

"Heard you turned red as a tomato whenever you saw Gendry for two weeks afterward," she says as she breaks the wax direwolf seal and unfurls the parchment.

"Stop teasing him, Arya," their lord yawns suddenly shifting his head to look at her, "What does Sansa have to say?"

"Give me a moment," she murmurs, looking him in the eye and in that instant, it's like they have a silent conversation that leaves them both grinning. Focusing on the parchment again and reading quickly, "It's nothing we didn't expect."

He nods, "So Pod has accepted her proposal then? Good for them," his words genuine, if a bit slow due to sleep.

"Yes, this is details about the wedding," she replies, reading the letter much more carefully this time.

"I'll take my leave now m'lord, m'lady," he waits for them to dismiss him but it doesn't come, and he suddenly feels very unnecessary, like he's been allowed to view them in a moment that was not meant to be seen by anyone.

He's just crossing the threshold of the doorway when a displeased noise, almost a growl, comes from the lady's lips, "I'm going to kill her."

That stops him where he is, turning around hopefully to get more of an explanation for the wolf's words.

There's movement beyond the sleeping wolf, and suddenly their lord is laying against both wolves, the woman, and the beast, although it's possible the lady is leaning on his shoulder.

"She's having a gown made for me. It's the only thing she wants me to do for the wedding, wear a fucking dress," she explains, clearly irritated.

He must be reading the letter, and after he kisses her temple and gathers her more thoroughly in his arms, "Write her back, ask for pockets," he says softly, "you can cut them open and keep a dagger on each thigh. You don't have to tell her, but she will see the wisdom in having you armed."

She giggles before leaning into him further, "You've thought about this," it's not a question.

"Course I have, you're always much happier when there's a blade no more than a yard away," he says taking one of the throwing daggers out of its sheath on her thigh and passes it to her only to have her put it away again.

"How did you sleep?" she asks now obviously calmed.

"Very well thank you," he kisses her forehead, "It was just what I needed."

There's quiet for a minute, and he's about to truly leave this time when their lord speaks again, "What is it?" the concern in his voice unmistakable.

"Would you want me to wear a dress when we marry?" the question quiet and clear.

There's a pause that lasts a second too long, "You would. You're picturing me in a gown right now," she accuses. 

"No Beautiful, you're not in a gown." he can see the smirk on his lips. "If it were possible, the only things you'd be wearing when we marry would be your blades," he says, his voice full of want and his words make the lady laugh, a real deep laugh. 

"Gendry, be serious," she says between laughs.

Only when she stops laughing does he speak again, "Wear a dress or not only if it pleases you." he kisses her then lightly, "It's not about what we'll wear. I'd marry you while we wear rags. It's the vows; we'll vow to be each other's forever." 

He's sure the lady is about to speak, but their lord stops her by speaking first, "I'm yours, I've taken that vow every day in my heart since that night in Winterfell."

"So have I," she replies and then it's suddenly very clear that it's his moment to leave before their clothes start coming off.

\------

She avoids this room, and most think that she pretends it doesn't exist. She has only ever stepped inside once, and that was an accident when she was first learning the layout of the castle. 

That doesn't mean she doesn't know each seamstress by name no, she does, and she calls over four of them into a corner and says the words the women have been waiting to hear for over a year, "I am in need of a gown. It must have pockets, and I have to be able to move and wear my sword with it without it looking ridiculous."

They all take notes and show the wolf some sample designs that will suit the purpose before the eldest one of the group looks the wolf in the eye and asks one final question, "The color of the gown will be?

A smile rises on the wolf's face before she says, "It needs to be done in Baratheon gold."


	4. Chapter 4

They all think it sweet really when their lord receives a raven and the next day has some suggestion or a new project to work on. She keeps him busy even when she's not present to do so in person.

It's suspected that there isn't a house that hasn't had their raven's borrowed by the bringer of dawn so she can send letters to their lord.

\------

The first time she ever arrives and their lord is away everything is curiously normal. She goes about her routine, but some things are just a little bit different. 

She takes no meals alone; most are spent down in the kitchens or seated with the castle staff and guards. 

Slipping into the forge after nightfall, she seems to sleep exclusively on their bed in the storage room. 

She presides alone in meetings with councilors and speaks with the smallfolk in the villages and the petitioners during formal audiences.

\------

She sends Nymeria off after their lord the morning after she comes home. The party arrives back with their lord on the twelfth evening after Nymeria leaves.

\------

Their lord and his traveling companions return during super. Nymeria is the first to arrive, likely running ahead of the group to greet and hunt with her pack first before finding her mistress eating in the hall surrounded by the castle guards and servants. She gives the wolf plenty of pets and scratches before returning to her meal.

It's clear that she pretends not to notice when their lord joins them sometime later, clean from the road. She acknowledges him only when he comes up behind her, letting him hug her from behind. There's a smirk on her face that their lord cannot see.

Room is made for him beside her, and a plate set out in front of him piled high.

He kisses her lightly on the temple, then pulling her closer he rests his forehead against hers for a minute, both their eyes close during this, smiles on their lips.

Turning back to the rest of the people at the table afterward and joining in on the conversation. His hand never leaves her waist.

They stay for hours, well past when most expected them to. The spiced honeyed mead that their lord returned with flows freely. It's a favorite of the lady apparently while their lord sticks to his usual watered down ale.

Together their laughter rings through the hall when the wolf begins begging for table scraps even with mostly dried blood still on her muzzle from her earlier hunt.

After a while, she moves to sit on his lap after she begins to yawn. She tucks her forehead into his neck after kissing his jaw when she was clearly aiming for his lips.

"Dear, would you like to go to bed?" he asks softly, amused by the woman in his arms.

"So long as my smith is there," is her reply, a hand pulling at the fabric of his tunic. He just keeps looking at her then, stunned by her.

A smile grows on his lips before he looks up at the few still seated around them, noticing their audience. He gives a nod to each person before he picks her up and carries her out of the hall.

There is no training in the yard the next morning. Nor do they appear to come down from their room until noon.

\------

A reasonably sized party is gathered and leaves Storm's End two moons later, traveling by ship first to Tarth then onwards to White Harbor to arrive for the wedding three weeks ahead of schedule.

The first part of the journey is short, picking up a few friends from Tarth before they head up the narrow sea.

\------

It's on one seemingly ordinary night just north of Runestone when it happens.

He's pulled inside by Arya's companion, "You, yes, come in, there should be more witnesses to this," she says with great enthusiasm.

He's been at an unnecessary post for the last hour given the people who have gathered inside the lord's cabin, the current occupants are three knights, an assassin, his lord who fought the dead with a war hammer, a swordswoman, and a beast of a direwolf, they have no need for any additional guards.

"Elaina what is going on?" he asks softly as the door closes. She only motions for him to watch.

"Would it be possible to do it here?" their lord asks from his seat on the edge of the bed, Arya at his side, the wolf dozing at their feet. Their friends gathered around them both seated and standing in the cabin.

"There should be enough space." Ser Brienne says looking at the center of the room. The short bench that she and Ser Jamie are on is pulled away as is the table next to it that holds their cups.

There's a change in the air as Ser Brienne, and Ser Jamie pull their swords from their scabbards. Ser Davos shifts from his place beside the bed as Arya rises from her seat and crosses to the two awaiting knights.

"Kneel, Arya of House Stark," Ser Brienne says, and then Arya goes to one knee.

He can't help but gasp when he realizes what is happening, is she? Is this truly happening?

Then Ser Brienne raises her sword to Arya's shoulder, yes yes she is.

They're interrupted by a warning growl from the wolf. "No, no, everything is alright Nym," their lord says, attempting to calm the wolf. It seems to work, but the wolf keeps looking back and forth between Arya and their lord.

"In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave.  
In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just.  
In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent," Sir Brienne moves her sword from one shoulder to the other as she speaks, saying the words reverently.

The sword is taken off Arya's shoulder, and there is a pause before Ser Brienne speaks again. "Arise, Ser Arya of House Stark, Shatterer of Night and Bringer of the Dawn, the last Knight of the Seven Kingdoms."

Arya isn't crying, but her eyes are watery. She touches both of the swords in front of her, "My father's blade, Ice, thank you," she says softly, both Ser Brienne and Ser Jamie only nod.

Their lord is instantly at her side as a tear starts to fall down her cheek. He wipes it away as she turns to him, leaning into his hand as he hugs her. Wiping her eyes on his tunic.

"I thought, with the north independent? Shouldn't it be Six Kingdoms?" she asks Ser Brienne a minute later, a surprised look on her face as she steps out of their lord's arms.

"You'll always be a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms," Ser Brienne replies a large smile on her face.

Both Ser Brienne and Ser Jamie resheath their swords, Ser Jamie stepping forward, "Remember those words. You have a squire; she'll be ready to be knighted eventually if that is her wish," he says, pointing at the only un-knighted woman in the room.

"A knight trained by Ser Arya Stark, a truly fearsome woman she must be," Ser Davos says from his place on the edge of the group and lifting his glass first to Arya and then to Elaina.

The same look of surprise still on Arya's face as she looks at her friend, shaking her head, "Elaina is not my squire, she's..." but her words are interrupted.

"I think Ser Arya that I am your squire, or at least I would like to be," Elaina says with possibly more confidence in her words than she has, a small smile playing at the woman's lips.

"Oh," Arya says, then pausing to consider everything, a moment passes before she nods, "Alright, you are my squire."

Ser Davos and their lord begin to chuckle from beside her at her surprise, not letting it continue she turns to them and hisses, "Shut up, you two."

Their Lord does his best to do as she asks, a smile plasters itself on his lips, but Ser Davos can't seem to stop. "As you wish Ser Arya," he says, bowing his head slightly.

You can watch the moment she goes from slightly annoyed to frustrated, "Don't call me that. No one in this room is allowed to call me that. Everyone here knows me well enough to call me Arya," she doesn't yell it, but it's a near thing.

"Which title do you dislike more?" Brienne asks truly curious, she doesn't mean anything by it, but the question only frustrates Arya more.

"Alright, before you lot make me regret this and spoil this monumental moment in my life," she says a sudden calm tone in her voice as she steps towards the door. Opening it, she says, "Out," pointing towards the open door, and everyone he suspects is frozen where they are.

"Everyone out. I'm celebrating this without you," she insists pointing at the door again, and instantly everyone can move and are headed toward the door, including their lord, "Nope, not you love, you're staying." she says taking their lord from the doorway and bringing him closer.

Their lord kicks the door, and she giggles as it closes behind the couple, "As you wish m'lady."

"She's taking all this rather well," Elaina remarks from beside him. Everyone turns to look at her, "How else did you expect her to react once we all began calling her Ser Arya?"

She begins stepping down the hall, but turns back, "I'm going to the galley to toast her, anyone who wants to join me is welcome."


	5. Chapter 5

Most of the people that accompany their lord and lady have never been north of Kingslanding. It makes the trip up to Winterfell seem to take much longer than it truly does.

Evenings on the road are spent around large bonfires. At the beginning, it was their lord telling the story of the time he spent beyond the wall and at Winterfell, warning of the cold they should expect, the wolf rolling her eyes at their lord, calling them all "thin-skinned southerners," but there's a grin on her face as she says it.

As they continue on further north, the tales switch destinations. Their minds travel south and east as if willing the heat to return through the lips of those who've traveled to such faraway places. 

The wolf spins tales of the humidity of Bravos and the dry heat of Dorne. All can feel the sun on their faces as she recounts the time she spent selling clams along the canals for a fishmonger. The people she's seen are sometimes too interesting to be real.

Often their lord prompts her as to what story she might consider telling. A silent conversation passing between the two, after he speaks his suggestion as if creating or coming to some sort of an agreement. When those looks run long, it's clear that a portion of the story has been omitted or cut short.

She seems brighter and less burdened with each night and every story she tells.

\------

The party reaches Winterfell three days later than they had wished to but still four days earlier than when they were expected.

The two Starks of Winterfell are embraced by their sister before the formalities are finished. Mentions of the impending arrival of the royal household and with it the four dragons are heard as everyone steps inside the great hall for a midday meal.

\------

Their lord is given a room in the guest wing, but he doesn't even acknowledge that it's been offered. His cases are placed in the childhood bedroom of his love.

\------

They're within the walls for less than three hours before Lord Baratheon, with a kiss to his love's cheek announces to the rest of the high table that he is off to the forge. A smile on her lips as he whispers something in her ear then, making her turn red, while seated on her sister's right.

The Queen of the North very obviously rolls her eyes at the pair as Arya watches him walk away.

\------

As the lanterns and torches are lit around the yard, the groom-to-be steps into the forge and a look passes between the knight and their master.

Their master clears off space at the other end of the bench that they're all sitting at, not bothering to take off his leather apron.

The knight sits at the now empty space near where Nymeria is laying — petting the wolf while their master makes room for himself across from the knight. 

It's a few minutes before their master actually joins the knight, sitting across from him, a strange look in his eyes before he begins to speak, "You've known her for a long time Pod, but still you're nervous?

"I'm not nervous, I'm excited," the knight says looking anywhere but their master's face, reaching down to pet at the wolf again. There's a moment that passes when their master must kick the knight beneath the table, a wince on the knight's face before he sighs, "Alright, I'm a bit nervous too, but everyone is nervous before they marry. I'm not nervous about Sansa though; I'm nervous about all the people who don't think I'm enough for her and the North."

At that their master smiles, looking at the knight before he speaks again, "Perhaps I can help you with that? Share with you of a few things that I can see about this whole situation that may calm your nerves. Some perspective maybe, after all, who could understand not feeling like they're enough more than the man who has the privilege of loving and being loved by the other Stark sister.

That gets the knight's attention. "I was hoping you could help me with this," the knight says softly.

Their master shrugs his shoulders and after a minute's thought begins to say, "It's clear you love her for who she is, beyond the masks she wears for her people and the lords of the North. You know her true self because she's shown it to you, and you love that person. She's not a lady or a queen to you, she's the woman you love, before everything else that's who she is," he pauses then and sighs, "Everyone needs someone who sees them that way. She loves you in the same way, for the good man you've always been, not as a squire you were or the knight you are. You've chosen each other, and anyone who thinks this isn't the best thing for their queen or the North is just wrong, so very wrong." 

A stupidly large smile grows on the knight's lips, "Everything you said is true."

A matching smile appears as their master says, "Then you needn't be nervous." 

Then their master is up from his seat cleaning more things off the workbench; there's a lull in the conversation before he says not turning to the knight, "You know by now that there's no stopping a Stark from doing exactly what they've determined is the best course of action."

"Of course I know that my lord," the knight says, in a tone too serious to be real.

Their master stops moving, turning back to the knight a look of horror suddenly on his face, "No don't do that," then his face softens, "I'm never addressing you as His Grace, Prince Consort of Winterfell, so I expect you to return the favor Pod," pointing his finger at the knight.

The knight begins to laugh, "Praise the old gods and the new for that, that's never going to sound right."

Their master calms at the knight's words and sighs, "Well, my original point is that she's determined that marrying you is what's best. Let no one ruin it for you." A chuckle leaves him before he continues, "When Arya and I received Sansa's letter saying she was going to propose we began planning the trip to Winterfell the next day." 

"How were you so positive I would say yes?" the knight asks puzzled. 

"It wasn't my intuition; it was hers," their master says pointing towards the two Stark sisters as they cross the courtyard, making the knight turn to watch them as well, "Your eyes betray your feelings for Sansa, apparently. The moment Arya saw you with Sansa, she knew."

Without taking his eyes off his betrothed, the knight says, "Of course my eyes betray me, just like yours do."

The pair watch the sisters until they walk out of view of the smithy. Stupidly happy smiles on both of their faces. "She's the best statesman, and strategist the Storm Lands has ever had Pod, for many reasons, but the most interesting one is that she can see lies on people's faces." The pair turn to each other once more, "She's never seen you lie. It's why Arya trusts you; it's why Nymeria lets you pet her, it's why you've been pack since before any of this truly started between you and Sansa.

The knight begins to pet the wolf again, "We love some fierce women, you and I," he says softly.

"Isn't it wonderful?" their master replies, looking toward the direction the sisters traveled.

They're brought out of their thoughts as one of the northern smiths begins to work a little ways away, "What will you work on while you're here?" the knight asks looking beyond the other man at the empty work station.

"Sansa has asked me to forge you a blade; I'm only just getting started," their master says calmly, enjoying the shock in the knight's face.

Taking pity on the man after a moment, "No no, it's not a secret, don't worry, she knows that I'll need your input. So it's good you're here. I know the sword you usually use, and I believe you had a similar design made in dragonglass?" 

Stepping away from the table and taking something, a sheathed sword, out from under a nearby workbench and placing it in front of the knight, "I have enough material to copy it, but I need you to tell me if you would like something a bit different, you'll never get another chance at this."

There's a long minute before the knight reacts, staring at the sword in front of him, "Sansa asked you to make me a sword with this?" the knight's voice soft and disbelieving.

"Technically I'm reforging the sword for you," their master says with a shrug, "Apparently, I'm not the only person in the world who likes to see the person I love well armed. How long have you had that sword anyway?" he gestures to the sword at the knight's side.

The knight completely ignores the question, touching for a moment the sword in front of him before mumbling, "Would you excuse me?" before leaving the forge in the direction the Stark sisters went and not looking back.

"Be back soon, or I won't be able to start planning today," their master calls after him as he begins to chuckle.

Their master shakes his head as he puts the sword back where it's being kept for now and begins to clean off more of the workbench. Arya enters the forge a minute later. Leaning down, she pets the wolf in greeting. "What was that all about? Pod was acting strange," she says, a smile on her face as the wolf's tail begins to thump, thump, thump on the ground.

"He's excited," their master replies, looking at her beside the wolf, "Sansa asked me to forge him a sword." He walks over to her then and offers her a hand up, to which she rolls her eyes but she takes it anyway as she stands.

"Your work is magnificent, he should be excited," she says simply, climbing up onto the table top of the workbench and letting her feet rest on the long bench seat and pulling a red apple from her pocket.

"It's not just the sword though, it's what it will be made of," their master says grinning and once again taking the sword from its resting place.

She's about to bite the apple but stops short as he places the sheathed sword on her lap and she is well and truly stunned, staring down at the red Lannister ruby that adorns the hilt "This is this what you're using?" she asks in disbelief.

"Jamie and Brienne thought it time the steel returns to the North, to the Starks," he says softly, leaning in towards her, both hands resting on the tops of her knees, making circles with his thumbs.

She snorts, "Well, that explains the look on Pod's face," then suddenly concerned she asks, "They are keeping Oathkeeper, right?"

"I believe so," he says confidently as one of her hands covers his own.

"Good, that's good," she's still obviously shocked.

It's a minute before she speaks again, looking up at him wide-eyed, "You've known about this for months. It's why you brought three of your apprentices with us," a wide grin on her face as she gestures over to where we are all still sitting, pretending not to eavesdrop, on the far side of the bench.

Their master only nods, "Jamie wrote Sansa, and then Sansa wrote to me. The original idea was to have it renamed, but Sansa wants it reforged, given a new life in the North again."

"So you're finally going to try," she says while picking up her apple again and chomping down hard on the first bite.

Red rushes to their master's face as he rubs the back of his neck, "I'm going to do my best; I only saw Mott do it twice, hopefully, with the extra hands everything will turn out."

He glances over in our direction before he turns back to the woman before him, "With Mott gone now I have to pass on the knowledge of how to do this. I may be the only person who knows the magics needed to reforge Valyrian Steel in Westeros for all I know."

She takes another bite and chews, offering the apple to him for a moment.

He takes it from her and takes a large bite. "It will feel strange reworking something of Mott's, but I hope to do it justice," he says once he's swallowed.

"You'll do fine," she says, holding a hand out for the apple to be given back.

"Thank you for your confidence," he says softly as he hands the apple back. Watching as she takes another bite, he sighs, "I need to wait for the dragons to arrive before I can start, unfortunately. There are problems with the forge, it's too old, and with the winter it can't get hot enough to melt it down. That's what we've been testing all afternoon."

She puts the apple down beside her, it takes only a moment to figure out his plan, as stupid and reckless as it may be. "So you want to use dragon fire to heat the forge enough so the steel can be melted. It's a clever idea."

He grins at the compliment, excitedly saying, "Mott was sure dragon fire had something to do with how it was originally created. I'm thinking of using Rhaegal's fire. It's not as hot as Drogon's, so hopefully it will be less likely to burn the forge itself, just heat everything up nicely. It could work, I'm almost sure of it."

She takes hold of his leather apron then, pulling him in two steps closer so she can press her lips to his. He grips on to the place behind her knees, pulling her closer to the edge of the bench.

When they break apart more than half the smithy is watching them, they were at it for so long that many people noticed.

He looks at her questioningly, confused but also amused by her.

"I'm proud of you is all," she explains, taking his hands in hers.

"I haven't done anything for you to be proud of yet," he says, bringing one of her hands up to his lips and kissing each of her knuckles.

She giggles at his display, softly saying only when he looks into her eyes again, "And somehow I'm still proud, funny how that works."


	6. Chapter 6

The Targaryens arrive two days later. King Jon and Queen Daenerys flying on their dragons with one of their twin daughters strapped to each of their backs. The two-year-olds thrilled to see their aunts and uncles, but they're most excited to see Arya, she plays the best games. 

\------

The topic of reforging Widow's Wail is brought up the next morning as they break their fast. King Jon readily agreeing that Rhaegal can probably do what their master proposes. 

If everything goes as planned, the Starks will have a new family sword within the week. 

Their master sets a grueling fifteen-hour work schedule, each apprentice taking a five-hour shift in the forge. One of the Starks, but most commonly Arya, arrives with food and drink to keep them going. 

Six days pass like that, then just like that, their master deems the blade complete. The red ripples of Widow's Wail turning back to the dark grey that Ice once possessed. 

\------

All the Stark children, even Bran, are tearing up at the sight of the new blade. Arya, tackling their master to the ground in the excitement. Their friends and family who have gathered in the family solar for the presentation, laughing as she pulls him out of the hall towards their rooms. 

Each apprentice is thanked by Queen Sansa for all their diligent work and sent to the kitchens for the best meal they've eaten since they began the work and then off to bed where they sleep for nearly two days. Their master sleeps the same, although maybe not in the same way due to the woman and wolf in his rooms.

White Wind, Podric decides on the third day after it's been presented.

\------

And just like that, the wedding is over. Queen Sansa and Ser Podrick saying the words and Queen Sansa wrapping the groom in a new Stark cloak.

It's the nicest wedding she's been to in her nearly seventeen years. Who knew the old gods were so keen on short ceremonies.

Purposely not looking over at Ren who's eyes have been on her for nearly the entire ceremony, pushing down the need to look at him as well. She'll admit to her feelings; they've been kissing recently, after all. On the journey here and more often since he helped Gendry reforge that blade. He's more confident suddenly, and she's not entirely sure how she feels about that. 

Looking over those assembled instead of Ren, two things stand out. Well two people really, there is a noticeable paleness to Arya and Gendry's completions.

Both turning to the other in any moment they are not congratulating the couple or speaking to someone else. Eyes holding a conversation only they can understand.

Curious, not a strange occurrence between them but at this moment their pale faces tell her something must be wrong.

Once the assembled start to disperse, the happy couple to some far off room to celebrate in private and the rest to greet the long day of drinking and feasting that will most likely be lasting till dawn, she, listening to Arya's teachings in her head follows her friends as quietly as possible. 

Falling back a bit as they duck into a small storage room and passageway that leads to another part of the castle.

"That was too familiar," she hears Gendry say as she nears the open doorway.

There's a pause before he speaks again, "Arya. That night... In the eyes of the old god's, are we?" His words coming slowly now like how one would speak to a skittish horse, "This whole time have I been your husband?" 

That startles her, almost makes her trip over her own feet. What in the world is Gendry talking about? They're getting married once all the lords of the north leave Winterfell. How many times have they told her that?

She reaches the door and crouching down and turning her head towards her friends in the room, Arya's turned away from Gendry towards the other side of the passage. 

"Husband," she hears her friend say before she turns around to look at Gendry.

Gods if this turns out to be true they are both such idiots.

She can hear the real question in his voice as he takes a step toward her friend, "Arya?

Arya looks up at him now; it's clear she's re-living something in her mind as her head begins to shake, "There was so much in the wrong order. We weren't even in front of a weirwood. No one gave me away."

He slowly walks forward towards her, leaving enough room between them that whoever wanted to close the distance would have to truly move, " Arya you wouldn't have let anyone give you away, not even Jon."

"You put your cloak around my shoulders that night; I covered us both with it. But you cloaked me. You took me under your protection," she says as she closes the distance between them, eyes wide as she looks at him.

"And I was already under your protection, I just didn't know it yet," he says as she takes hold of his elbows just staring into his eyes, "You took me that night, made me yours forever."

"I'll take you again," there's a smile tugging at the edge of her lips.

His tone clear as he answers with a slight laugh, "I'd hope so."

Alright, her friends are idiots. Idiots and saps, the both of them.

"I still don't know if it counts," she says, slowly leading them over to a pile of grain sacks.

"How do you not know if something like that counts?" he asks, confused but somehow amused as they sit.

Arya only shrugs, "I've never been to a wedding before today, at least none that I can remember." She pauses, looking back down at their feet. "There might be something to it though, a war wedding. But how can two people marry and not know it?" 

Arya brings up a valid point. 

He chuckles a bit, "Arya, we've been behaving as if we were married for over two years, maybe we did know somehow."

And somehow that is an even more valid point.

"Would you want it to... to count? Would you want it to have happened like this?" The words getting stuck in Arya's throat, cracking with emotion.

He cups her face in his hands and lowers his forehead to hers, "Arya all I want is to be married to you. How it happened or happens doesn't matter. The marriage, our marriage that is what is important."

Oh, he's good at this.

There's a long moment before Arya does anything and when she does, it's to burrow her head into Gendry's shoulder. 

"Married. I'm married to you," she says slowly into his skin.

"That alright with you?" he asks with a laugh, Arya lifting her head and closing the small distance it takes for her lips meet his. They part only to have him capture her lips again as she nods.

So they're married, and they have been for a very long time, and somehow this changes nothing. It's very strange.

They stay like that for a long minute, kissing and just holding on to each other, perhaps between kisses whispering words to each other that she cannot hear.

Then Arya begins to giggle, and Gendry must look at her confused, "Do you know what this means?" she asks between breaths.

He doesn't say anything, clearly giving her a look as she kisses him for a bit to wipe whatever expression he had off his face. She finally explains, "Before Gendry Baratheon could even propose to me over there in that spot," she says pointing to the other end of the passage, "I had already married Gendry Waters, the master blacksmith right here," she says as she straddles his lap.

"Yes m'lady I do believe you did," he says as he places a kiss on her forehead, then holding her to him as close as he can.

His lips against her forehead, he asks, "How do you feel?" so softly she almost doesn't catch the words.

She can hear Arya's contented sigh before she replies, "Happy. Being in love with you makes me happy. We deserve to be happy," pressing a small kiss to his lips. 

"Yes we do," he says before kissing her very thoroughly.

How are they both disgusting and adorable at the same time?

She's about to pretend to stumble upon them when Arya breaks the kiss laughing, "Gods, I can't believe I had a gown made and everything," she says in between laughs.

Oh, Gendry's face is so silly looking when he's surprised. "You had what made? Arya?" his voice cautious again, trying to tread lightly on the subject it seems.

"I had to see if your idea about the pockets would work," she says, making him laugh as well. 

There's a questioning look on Gendry's face. 

"See for yourself," she says, and he brings his hands down from her back to either side of her hips. Moments later, he raises his hands again, and he's holding a dagger in each causing their laughter to continue. 

"Dear, have I mentioned how incredible you look today?" he says, looking down at the grey and white gown she's wearing.

"You have," Arya says, red appearing on her face as she takes a dagger from him.

He kisses her cheek, then says, "You'd kill me, but all I want is to cut you out of this gown right now."

No, gods no, she doesn't want to see that, there have been a few close calls, but she can't even escape if they were to start. She'd have to move, and then they would surely notice her.

Arya shakes her head, "Sansa's the one who would kill you. Watch me save you from my sister's wrath." She takes the other dagger back from him and puts them away after a moment. The grins on their faces don't fade.

"Will I ever get to see you in this mystery gown?" he asks slowly, a hand sliding up her back.

Arya sighs softly and shakes her head, "It's very clearly a wedding gown."

"Oh," the disappointment clear in his voice.

There's a minute where neither of them speaks, just holding each other before Arya breaks the silence. "We could marry again in a sept. I know you don't believe..." She has more to say, but she's interrupted by a kiss.

"So long as we are married. I don't need to see the gown," he says.

"I want you to though," she replies, then more softly, she says it almost shyly, "I like it. I look beautiful in it." He just seems to hold her tighter. 

After a minute she backs out of his hold before saying, "We could just continue with our plans, I did already tell Sansa and explaining this to her would be..."

"Difficult?" he suggests, trying to be helpful obviously.

She nods, "I mean yes, not to mention excruciatingly painful and awkward."

"It could be when we're legally married, but we'll always count from that night," he suggests shrugging a little beneath her.

She nods before leaning into him again and taking his face in her hands, running her fingers along his cheeks before kissing him again.

How many times can they kiss each other? She regrets following them, she does. She could be sitting next to Ren in the great hall drinking fine meed and listening to him talk right now; she loves listening to him talk.

"What are you thinking about?" Arya asks once the kiss ends and his eyes don't open along with hers.

"I was just thinking that if the past few years are any indication, then I think I will enjoy being married to you immensely," Gendry says opening his eyes he brings his forehead to rest with hers.

She nods, forehead against forehead, "I happen to agree."

"Well, aren't we lucky wife?" he says, leaning in to kiss her again.

Gods they're going to be such embarrassing parents some day.

"Yes, I'm your wife, and you're my husband," Arya says breathlessly once they part. "Lord Gendry Baratheon and Ser Arya Baratheon of Storm's End." 

She stops suddenly after that, a strange expression on her face. "I'll need to get used that."

He just shakes his head, "Not unless you want to Ser Arya Stark," he pauses to let her think. 

He's going to tell her, oh if she didn't already know his plan she'd be as confused as Arya is. 

His smile as large as it can be as he explains, "Brienne didn't become a Lannister when she married. No female knight is required to change their name from the one they were knighted with unless they choose to."

So many emotions must flash on Arya's face to make Gendry laugh, "Gendry, did you know that when you brought up the subject with Brienne?" Arya asks, voice tight and almost accusatory.

All he does is shrug his shoulders in response and look very proud of himself. 

"Scheming to never have anyone call me a lady again and figuring out a way for me to keep my name. You're truly the most wonderful man. No wonder I'm marrying you again," she says, peppering his face with small little kisses until she gets close to his lips and then it seems she lets him take over.

An upturned corner of his lips once they part, backing up from her as far as he can to look at her, shaking his head as he explains, "I've never understood it, how our marriage would make you into something, someone, you're not. Baratheon doesn't even feel right to me most of the time and you, beautiful, are no stag to be hunted or lady to be lorded over. You deserve your knighthood, don't ever doubt that."

She moves so she can kiss his forehead then, looking down at him with what must be an odd expression on her face based on his tone when he says, "Arya?" 

Her voice cracks as she begins to speak, "Thank... thank you. I need this. I need my name. I spent so long without it."

"I know," he says, reaching up for what must be a tear falling down her face and she melts into his touch, leaning on him as close as she can.

They're quiet after that until Gendry sighs, "Sansa is going to kill us. I know they were going to spend some time alone before the feast truly begins, but it must be starting by now," he says, looking around at where they are. 

She giggles as she places small kisses along his jaw. "What is it? What's funny?" he asks, looking down at her laying on his chest.

"You've been courting your own wife," she says simply as she pauses her attentions to his jaw, a smile clearly on her lips.

He reaches for her cheek then, and she leans into his palm. "I've been making love to her too, just as any good husband should," he says much too loud for the words that he said.

She has to break this up before they spend even more time just holding each other, besides Gendry's right when he said that the feast probably already started.

Taking a deep breath and walking backward a few steps and pretending to not notice them. Why is she doing this, she's not an actor? Arya is going to see right through this. Stopping short and turning toward the couple, "Oh good there you two are," she says, trying to sound like she's been walking at a brisk pace.

"We'll be right along," Arya says, looking toward her, then pausing to look at her, eyes narrowing, "Elaina how long were you there?" She didn't even get to respond before Arya read her.

Well, there's no use in lying, "The entire time," she says shrugging.

Arya gets off of Gendry's lap then and walks over towards her, "You stayed so quiet, good job." Real praise for snooping on her privacy, Arya is in a good mood.

"Your secrets are safe with me," she promises, "I only have to pretend you're not married until the majority of the northern lord's leave right? That's when you're going to marry again?" Both Gendry and Arya nod in reply.

"How did you know to follow us?" Gendry asks, standing up and walking toward them.

She shrugs, "The blind white panic on your faces after the wedding made me curious. I was just following my instincts, and you two were acting weird. Come on, let's go to the feast and congratulate the happy couple again."

She walks out first and makes it ten steps before she realizes that they're not following.

Turning around, she sees them just looking at each other. 

Useless, the both of them.

\------

She watches as her sister and brother, and her sister's squire enter the hall. The squire, Elaina, breaking off to sit with Gendry's apprentices. She kisses one of them, Rendal maybe, squarely on the mouth in greeting. A dazed look on his face before he returns the kiss. 

Once the Lord and Lady of Storm's End take their seats, she leans into Arya and asks, "And where were you?" She's almost too happy to care where they were actually, more curious than anything and glad that they are here now.

"We were discussing the possibility of me keeping the Stark name when we marry," Arya says loud enough for her to hear over the noise of the hall but not so loud that others won't catch her words. 

They are perfect for each other. 

She only nods in response to Arya before she sees Daenerys and Jon poised to stand, holding cups, ready for her signal to welcome to everyone to the feast. 

Wordlessly she tells them to start, and Pod squeezes her hand lightly under the table, drawing her attention to him again. 

The only thing she wants at this moment is to kiss him, but she waits the few moments for the hall to erupt in cheers. They both reach for each other at the same moment, and yes, she'll never tire of this feeling, happiness.


	7. Chapter 7

Playing a drinking game with the king and queen is not an unheard-of event, but the added group makes for a much more raucous game.

Years ago he never would have imagined being welcome in the Stark Family Solar after the wedding of his old squire and ex-wife. The world certainly can change rapidly.

He can't help but feel that this is partially Jamie's fault. He expected that Jamie and Brienne would have taught Ser Arya, Lord Baratheon, and Ser Davos at some point. It's no matter. Trying to teach this game to new people is always so much fun. 

"You're not even really drunk," he says, pointing a finger at Arya, raising his eyebrow, daring her to try and lie. 

She drinks. Sweet victory again.

But that must mean, "There's no alcohol in that cup," he tries again, delighted when she drinks, even though he knows now she's not truly drinking.

"Well, that's just no fun," Jamie interrupts, "That's part of the game; you need to drink." Oh, his brother is not good at this game at all, but at least he understands the spirit of the competition. 

A sizable grin grows on Arya's face, "Weddings can be dangerous occasions Lannister," she says dryly, mostly to Jamie but her eyes dart to his for a split second. Her tone sending dread to the pit of his stomach, the Freys, gods that's the look she had on her face as she did it, he'd bet Casterly Rock on that.

"And how would you help, you're not even armed?" his brother blathers on, clearly not understanding what she just said.

"You want to bet on that?" she leans into her betrothed at that moment, the grin on her face changing slightly as their eyes meet.

A menacing smile grows on Lord Baratheon's lips as he looks from Arya to Jamie. "Dear, how many ways could you kill him right now?" he asks without looking at her, eyes fixed on his brother.

Her eyes go wide at the question, and she honestly giggles before she responds, she takes a dagger from somewhere and stabs it into the table, "Oh countless," she growls like her wolf as she says it.

He'd be honest to say he's a little unnerved by it, but those feelings disappear as Brienne stands from her seat next to Jamie, swaying.

All eyes in the room turning to her, "Excuse me, while we don't doubt your abilities Arya may I say, no one is killing anyone, especially not my husband, not tonight. I may kill him later, but that's beside the point," she's talking with her hands gesturing to everyone as she speaks to them or about them. She only does that when she's drunk.

"Brienne, you're drunk," Jon accuses, Daenerys next to him, stifling her laughter in his shoulder.

"Oh, am I? I hadn't noticed" she says sarcastically back at Jon before sitting down. Jamie, resting his head on her shoulder, watching, expecting the game to continue. 

Looking back at Arya now trying to come up with a new truth. She leans away from Lord Gendry Baratheon but not as much space is between them as there had been before. Interesting. "Never in all your life have you been in love with anyone other than your betrothed."

She drinks, she finishes whatever was in her cup. The smile on both Lord Baratheon and Arya's faces are genuine. "Really never?" he takes a drink because suddenly he needs some, "Even I didn't believe that one as I was saying it," It's sweet really.

She shrugs, looking beside her at her, betrothed, "Since your father had him working at Harenhall."

"You were twelve!" her betrothed suddenly says, actual shock in his voice.

"I was thirteen, and I had almost lost you, besides I still had eyes," she explains her gaze never drifting off him, "Didn't realize for a long time what my feelings really were, you were gone by then..." She says but is cut off by a low groan.

Everyone turns to the king; he goes red as he says, "I really don't need to hear this."

"Blame Tyrion, Jon," she says, lifting her arm in his direction, "he asked the question."

Apparently, her reasoning does not make the king feel any better; it's clearly written on his face. 

Arya only rolls her eyes at his expression before whispering loudly to her right, "Seven hells, what a baby," before leaning into Lord Baratheon, taking his face in her hands and kissing him very thoroughly for a few moments.

Pulling away as she removes her hands from his face and stands, "Umm, Arya, what are you?" Lord Baratheon begins to ask but pauses as she pushes her chair back so she can get out, their eyes stay connected. 

She bends over and tilts his face up with a finger to his chin, kissing him lightly again before separating as she turns away and exits the room, Lord Baratheon's gaze following her as she goes. The door shuts behind her, and he finally seems to snap back into the present. His eyes shifting to the dagger she left stabbed in the table. "We're going to go, I, we have something we have to do," he says still clearly distracted as he rises and moves to leave. 

He goes to take the dagger, but at that moment he must have remembered his manners looking at Daenerys for her leave, and not looking at Jon at all.

Daenerys nods, but he can't stop himself from interrupting Lord Baratheon before he can leave, "No, no Baratheon, can I ask you one?"

"One," the man says, taking his cup in hand.

One, have to make it a good one, oh yes, "You were corrected after your first two weeks in the Storm Lands that there weren't actually sapphires on Tarth. 

Everyone watches as Lord Baratheon brings his cup to his lips. Yes he's right, he remembers that story correctly, but then there's hesitation. There's no tilt to the glass. Taking it from his lips, Lord Baratheon puts it down and pushes it across the round table, "I thought that for three weeks. Drink."

Laughter erupts from those still seated around the table. Taking the offered cup and drinking what is inside. The sweetened black tea that's gone lukewarm is an unwelcome surprise.

The dagger is taken and placed into the Lord's belt. Then he's stepped away from the table and is out the door in four short strides.

Once the door shuts again, he turns to the mostly silent man who had been sitting at Lord Baratheon's side. "Davos, did you lie to me?"

"Must have missed remembered Tyrion, you have my sincerest apologies," the grin on the man's face is all he needs to know.

"Eight years. That means she's loved him for over a third of her life," Jon says clearly stuck in his thoughts.

"I've always been curious as to why they aren't they married already, do you know, Ser Davos?" Daenerys asks, honestly curious.

The man sighs, "Well your grace, there are plenty of reasons I've been assured, but they haven't shared them with me. I could guess at a few, but it's not my place to speculate."

"But there will be another wedding before we leave or did my source have incorrect information?" So Sansa has told her too, that's good, and by the lack of shock on the faces of those still around the table, it seems everyone in the room knows.

Davos clears his throat before answering, "Oh, that's correct, once the Northern Lord's leave. It'll be small, family and friends. They both agreed that they wanted to do it here," he pauses trying to find the words, "It's supposed to look like a spontaneous thing, so no lords get offended."

"You really think that will work?" Jamie asks, head still leaning on Brienne.

"If the Northern Lords are traveling home when it happens, well there's no way to let them know to come back, and all the Lord's of the Stormlands are leagues away." Davos reasons, "Hopefully, it will keep hurt feelings to a minimum."

"A cunning plan, what a smart couple," he says drinking the rest of the tea by mistake from the cup in front of him. 

"The Northern Lords have already celebrated one wedding, and everyone back home won't care, they just want them married." Davos pauses, chuckling a little before saying, "They have every lad and lass believing in true love."

\------

Sansa sighs as she enters the library, crossing the room looking for anyone lurking in the stacks before sitting on the other side of one of the long tables across from them. "One more day before the majority of them leave," she says like she's giving a report. 

Arya's eyes go wide at the news. "Really? When will they all be gone?" she asks quickly.

A smile appears on Sansa's face as she looks at them, "Three days after that. Lord Reed is leaving then, but Meera will be staying for the foreseeable future.

"Because of Bran?" she hopes, Meera was a welcome traveling companion once they reached The Neck. She's become very fond of her.

Sansa nods, "He's been slowly returning to himself."

"He's different now, more of a person than he was, just like you described in your letters," Arya adds a thoughtful look in her eyes.

Sansa hums in agreement, "He sent a letter to her when I had a messenger bring the announcement of the wedding. They didn't part well when they arrived from beyond the wall," she trails off, and both sisters are in their own thoughts.

"So if the last lord leaves in four days will the wedding be six days from now?" she chimes after a minute, bringing the subject back to the planning of a wedding, "Give the stragglers two days to get far enough out of the area?"

"It's a good idea Dany," Sansa says trying to persuade Arya it seems, then turning to her sister more fully, "You and Gendry are both still positive you want to have the ceremony at dawn?

Arya nods, "We don't need a feast, all we want to do after is go back to bed and..."

Sansa interrupts her before she can finish, "Those are plans your sisters do not need to hear," she says indicating both of them with a head tilt.

"And sleep for half a day, was all I was going to say," Arya says softly and if she didn't know the woman so well, she'd be inclined to believe her.

Sansa rolls her eyes, then turning her attention to her, she asks, "Will it be hard on the girls, waking up that early?"

She had been giving that some thought, it won't be as bad as when they were traveling on the King's Road at least, "We'll adjust their nap schedule and get them to bed earlier for a few days beforehand. They're likely to fall asleep as soon as it's over anyway."

There's a comfortable lull in conversation then, she goes back to her reply to Missandei's latest letter, but a thought keeps coming back to the forefront of her mind. 

"I've been curious Arya," the woman's head shifting to look at her as she begins, "why have you two waited this long? You've lived with each other for a long time. What kept this from happening sooner?"

Arya's eyes narrow a fraction at her as she finishes, going from open to skeptical in an instant, "Are you asking as a queen or as a sister?"

She sighs slowly, hoping by now that Arya would trust that when they're alone like this, she'd know that they’re family always. "What do you think, Arya?" The woman's eyes soften, "You needn't tell us anything if you do not wish to."

It takes a minute for her to start speaking and when Arya does, she has a smile on her lips, "It took us a while to get here because of many things, truthfully. There was a lot we had to work through individually and together as a couple."

It takes a moment for her to begin speaking again, she's choosing her words carefully, "I think being friends first, that helped us through. We know each other so well. We were able to trust that no matter what we were dealing with, we still had that connection and that need to love each other. When I first visited, those first few days, it was like we were only friends again, it made us realize that we'd always want more from each other."

"How did you know?" she asks, curious how they went back so quickly to being more.

"He still was looking at her like she was the only thing in the world worth his attention," Sansa says, a strange look on her face.

The irritation in Arya's face is easy to spot, "Sansa don't quote my letters," she growls.

"It was something that stayed with me," Sansa explains, "Its one of the ways I realized that Podrick was as in love with me as I was with him. I didn't notice that he's always looked at me like that. So thank you."

Arya stands, nodding to Sansa before leaving her seat at the table. She feels bad asking this of Arya at this point; it's clearly difficult for her to speak of.

She's about to say that she can stop if she wants, but then Arya wraps her arms around herself and looking directly at her says, "Before I left for Kingslanding I refused his proposal, it was right after you made him a lord. I couldn't say yes, not when I thought I was going south to die trying to kill Cersei," she takes a breath, tears forming at the corner of her eyes, "At that moment it felt like he only proposed because he finally thought himself worthy of me. He couldn't see that I had always thought him worthy, that I would have taken Gendry, the blacksmith as my husband. That he was the man I choose, the man I fell in love with. I needed him to know that, to believe it."

Now she just feels terrible for the both of them, how did she not know after all this time that her tactical maneuver that night affected them so much.

"When we reunited, he promised to not propose again. It was the most romantic thing he could have done at that moment." A smile settles on Arya's face, "Letting me know he'd always want that for us, but giving me the control of it was important, him trusting me with it." 

She's in her mind for a moment before she says softly, "He was serious when he promised that we'd be equals in everything. He's just such a good person."

"So how did you ask?" Sansa's tone curious, as Arya pauses.

Arya's smile somehow gets larger, "If you don't want to know our plans for the morning after our wedding, then you really don't want to know the details of that." It's not the truth, but that's alright.

Sansa rolls her eyes, "When did you ask though?"

"About three months after I returned from assassinating the old Sea Lord," Arya says the smile on her face faltering as she speaks of that horrible slaver.

"You've been engaged for longer than I was,' Sansa says quietly after doing the calculation in her head.

"Well we've never been the type of people to rush into anything," Arya says quickly, then thinking for a moment, "not when we felt we had the time, I mean."

\------

She can't see him in that doublet without thinking of the council Dany held after everything in the capital was settled. "When I first saw you dressed like this, well, the claw marks, they aren't very subtle," she says as she crosses to him, his Baratheon cloak newly cleaned laying over her outstretched arms.

He turns to greet her; he finds amusement in what she just said, "They weren't supposed to be. I was trying to send your sister a message." 

Given the event that will be happening in less than an hour, it's clear that he was able to get his message to her sister.

"And what are you trying to say with them now?" she just has to ask.

He blushes at the question, "The same thing really, that I'm hers. Besides it was made clear that it was my only choice, she loves the way I look in it, and it's warmer than anything."

Passing him one side of the cloak, together they unfold it, being careful not to drop it on the floor, as they find the top of it. 

He takes it and holds it, and she only watches as he brings the cloak around himself, he looks like a strange mixture or Renly and Robert dressed as he is but with a much more kind and open demeanor.

It strikes her how much she's grown to enjoy Gendry's company. He's another brother to her, not replacing Robb or Rickon, but someone she trusts without question. That he's able to make Arya blush is just a bonus.

He turns to her when he seems to be done arranging the cloak on his shoulders, offering himself for her inspection. She gets to work, arranging the nap of the fur, so it all goes in one direction, making the fur jet black. 

When she finishes she starts to say the one thing only she can add to today, something father would have wanted him to hear, "You know one of the last times I saw my father, he promised to find a new match for me, someone better than Joffrey. Someone worthy. Someone brave, gentle, and strong. I didn't hear him at the time. I couldn't understand what he was saying," she shakes her head, thinking of how stupid she was back then.

"Sansa," he says softly, turning toward her and offering her a hug.

It's a simple thing, stepping into his outstretched arms for a moment and accepting the comfort that's offered. It does help, but she wishes Podrick was here. 

She grabs one of his hands as she steps out of his arms. She has to get to the point of this, "I found that for myself, someone worthy, brave, gentle, and strong. He'd be pleased to know that Arya found it too, what he wanted for us, even if he couldn't be here to see it."

"Thank you," he says, taking his hand back, she can hear the emotion in his voice even if his face doesn't betray him.

"Your mother would have cared," he says softly, his shoulders tensing under the cloak.

She just knew this would come up if she brought up father, she takes a breath and thinks before answering, "If mother was alive, you're right, I think she would have tried to stop your friendship. But we both know that you and Arya would have gotten here and would have found a way to marry anyway. Mother would have come around eventually, once she realized how good you are and how much Arya loves you." His shoulders relax as she finishes speaking.

Both of them wordlessly begin to snuff out the candles that have been lit to light the room only leaving the fire in Arya's room as a source of light.

"How does she look?" he finally asks, she could tell he's been dying to know, the wait to see her getting the best of him given that it has been two hours since she took Arya away from him to get her ready.

A smile comes to her lips thinking of Arya going just as stir crazy as Gendry while waiting in her room with Jon and Dany, "I've never seen her so beautiful."

"So I'm going to cry, you mean," he says thoughtfully.

She can't help but tease him, "Of course, you're going to cry," although honestly, she can't picture Gendry crying.

Crossing to the door she goes to turn the handle, it's almost time, "Come. Let's get you down there; everyone has already gathered."

"Is it safe?" he asks nervously, knowing Arya would kill him if they saw each other before she was walking towards him in the Godswood.

Looking down the corridor, she meets Jon's eyes from a crack in her doorway that closes promptly as she turns back to Gendry and says, "Not a soul in sight."


	8. Chapter 8

"You can open your eyes lad, she's here," he says leaning in towards the man at his side, watching as his eyes open and willing himself to remember the looks on both their faces as they see each other for the first time so he'll be able to retell this to those at Storm's End as accurately as possible.

She walks alone towards them, the soft rays of the rising sun reflecting off the golden leaves that completely cover her gown, the black fabric of the undergown and sleeves suck in the light and the heat. It's striking in a way he doesn't have the words for. Her sword is at her hip, just where it ought to be. It's the antler necklace that he almost misses, the gold of it matching the gold of the gown.

A gasp escapes from the small crowd at the sight while Gendry very clearly gulps as he looks at his bride already wearing Baratheon colors from head to toe.

Actually, that's not quite true, almost invisible against the layer of snow in the godswood is a pure white fur Stark cloak resting on her shoulders, dragging behind her a bit.

A look of concern flashes on Arya's face for a second before it disappears. Gendry, wiping away moisture as it forms at the corner of his eyes. A look of awe on his face as he looks at the woman before him.

"Gendry, don't break on me, love," she says with a grin as she reaches his side.

"Was it your idea, the gown of golden leaves?" Gendry asks in reply, wiping away another tear.

A clear blush rises in her cheeks, and it seems Gendry can't help himself, gathering her into a hug, his lips brushing against her forehead. He begins to hum a tune softly, a short verse of something. It's not easy to catch any distinct notes.

"Stop it," she says half-heartedly. 

She grabs on to the edge of Gendry's black cloak as she erupts with laughter when he continues without even pausing.

Only when Gendry finishes humming does he let go of her for a moment. Bringing a hand up, first to touch the necklace then further up to hold on to the side of her face, gently causing her eyes up to meet with his. "Arya, all I ask is that you be yourself always. That's how I want this to be between us. I love and want you just as you are. We're family, and we always will be."

She nods at his words, an awed expression on her face, eyes wide as she looks at him.

"Take me again?" Gendry asks, a hopeful note in his voice.

All tension in her body disappears as he speaks, leaving him to hold her upright. Her response, it's hardly audible, "Yes, of course, every day. You are the only one I would ever do this with."

It begins to look like they're just going to stay embraced like that. Taking a glance at those gathered, their expressions are a mix of soft understanding at the couple - letting them have this moment, but others just seem impatient and sleepy due to the early hour.

Feeling it in his power to intervene on behalf of the others who deal with this way less often, he clears his throat pointedly, and as expected they realize what a spectacle they're making. Both of them have the decency to blush as they recognize this.

"Can we begin?" he asks as more of a direction than a suggestion.

"Thanks, Davos," Gendry says as he steps away from Arya who at the last moment, takes both of his hands in hers. 

He waits for her nod before beginning, only once he has seen it does he start, loudly for all attending to hear, "Who comes before the old gods this morning?

"Arya comes to be wed," she says confidently, never taking her eyes off Gendry, who answers her declaration of just her first name with a raised eyebrow.

"And who comes to wed her?" he asks, turning his attention to Gendry now.

"Gendry" is all he says, loud enough to match Arya's initial words. Their eyes are going to stay on each other for the entire ceremony; he'd bet on that.

His eyes turn to the crowd for a moment then settling on Arya before he speaks again very clearly asking her, "Who gives her?"

"She gives herself," there's pride in her response. She's making sure it's known that this is a love match, that this was their choice, that no one has made them do this, or forced them to have this happen sooner than they were ready for it.

"Arya, do you take this man?" he asks using only the names they used as this started.

She takes her time in responding, looking over Gendry up and down and back again slowly, a smile still plastered on her face, "I take this man." Gendry's fighting back the urge to laugh as she looks at him. 

Knowing full well that the lad is probably going to make Arya wait just as long as she made him, he asks, "Gendry, do you take this woman?"

"I take this woman," the words are out of Gendry's mouth in an instant, and he almost laughs at how wrong he was.

Afterward, both Gendry and Arya kneel, fulfilling the next part of the ceremony, a short prayer to the old gods. They keep hold of each other's hands for the duration.

Before rising both unfasten their cloaks. Gendry reveling the white fur claw marks of his doublet switched out to match Arya's cloak no doubt. There's a small shift in Arya's smile as she notices. Gendry holds his cloak in his arms as Arya rises first and fastens the white fur around his shoulders. She guides him up to stand beside her again once it's secured.

His forehead comes to rest on her own as he brings the black cloak around her. As he fastens it, her hands reach up to the claw marks on his shoulders.

He holds her and then after a minute lifts her off the ground a few inches, spinning her once, then twice more around as they laugh.

When he's put her down, she silences their laughter with a kiss, one Gendry eagerly returns.

Only when they part do they seem to remember the crowd. Turning to those present for the first time since the ceremony started, they see the smiles they've bought to each person's face. Their joy is catching.

They shyly accept the congratulations of those gathered, never leaving the others side. They stay a while, but only as long as they can handle the attention on them.

When they leave the godswood, everyone follows them.

They lead the group through the doors of the great hall before rushing pass the high table and disappearing through a door at the far side of the chamber before the group has a chance to realize what has happened. They're still distracted at the sight of the hall, already set for a feast this early in the morning.

Queen Sansa instantly commands the small crowd's attention as she reaches the high table. "Welcome, as you may have noticed the newlyweds have escaped from their own celebration in favor of their private chambers," she says glancing over at the door the couple escaped through, "You are welcome to stay and feast or to follow in their example and return to sleep. Let me assure you that you will not miss the chance to celebrate their union."

She motions for them all to take a glass and waits to continue until she is sure everyone has one, "I ask you now to raise your glasses to Ser Arya Stark and Lord Gendry Baratheon. May their marriage be everything they wish it to be."


	9. Chapter 9

The happy couple is not seen for three days, but empty trays keep appearing outside their door. No one will take the credit for supplying them with food and drink but hells if everyone doesn't think they deserve the time to themselves.

They appear in the Great Hall early on the fourth day.

Sitting at the end of one of the long tables, Arya's head resting on Gendry's shoulder, drifting in and out of sleep due to the early hour. Every time she wakes up for a moment, their eyes meet, and they just stare at each other adoringly.

That's how the two queens find them half of an hour after they first arrived. They join the couple on the other side of the bench instead of sitting as they usually do at the high table.

Arya seems to finally wake shortly after they join them. Their group slowly grows to include the rest of their family. As much as it brings blushes to the couple's faces, both Queen Sansa and Queen Daenerys do finally get to toast the happy couple.

\------

She hasn't visited the crypts since before the last battle of the great war.

She stops in front of each statue one by one, just looking until she stops at mine, studying my face. 

"I'm not you no matter what people say; I'll never be you. I'm sorry for what happened to you," her voice breaks and she pauses, "I thank you though for what you did, without it they wouldn't be here, I wouldn't be here. The world would probably be... gods; the world would probably be gone." Tears flow down her face now, and she looks up at me through the tears.

"Jon's not his father; he's more like my father everyday. Gendry's not his father either, and I'm not you reborn," she laughs at the absurdity and what she's about to say, "We're both she-wolfs sure, but it's not the same. Starks to the core, of course, fierce brazen warrior women."

She wipes the tears off her face, "We should have... I would have loved to have known you. Sansa always thought you tragic, but you knew, you chose, and that choice made all the difference." She steps away then and has halfway turned to leave before she looks back, puts a hand on the corner of the statue for a moment then begins to walk away.

Oh, dear niece.

I have never seen two men as different as he, your husband old and new, and his father, a man I always knew would never love me true.

The devotion that the two of you share is what I had with my own love.

He will name you Warden of your lands, and never you will be a lady with a weight of regret heavy on your chest as I would have only been.

You'll train forces over time; a task made simple because of the comradery you've found with the people and the land. Once the old master of arms hangs up his sword, your swords will fill that gap.

Your love will keep you both whole and happy through the every day; respect and friendship will get you through the years.

Do not be frightened for your future as I always was, for there is no need. Your lives will continue on together further than you thought could be.

I knew what I was doing, but I didn't anticipate the cost. I'd do it all again you see because I now know all was not lost.

You are not me like I could have never been like you, our paths held different purposes in the great war you won, and we each fulfilled our parts.

Go, dear niece, don't pay me any mind. Live your good life in the peace you fought so fiercely to find.

\------

"I yield," he says from the cold ground of the yard. How Gendry got so fast since the last time they sparred is not a question. No man should be able to move like that with a hammer that size.

He takes the hand when it's offered a moment later, "You are getting rusty Jon, all that time in the capital not giving you enough time to train?" Gendry teases as they both right themselves.

"And your time does?" he asks, it's a serious question.

"Have to make time for it; I'd disappoint her if I didn't practice with her," Gendry says towards where Dany and the girls are sitting a few yards away, with Arya now apparently. Dany's expression is thoughtful as she watches, but Arya's calculating looks make him instantly nervous.

Picking up his sword where it had fallen, when he looks up again, he finds that Arya has joined them, "You two haven't done that in a while. Usually, I'm the one that has Jon yielding to my superior skills." she says, leaning against Gendry's side as she teases the both of them.

He tries not to laugh, he really does, but once Gendry starts to chuckle, he can't help it.

"Have to keep you entertained, don't I?" Gendry says between laughs.

It's then that Arya's eyebrow raises, looking between them, "Who challenged who?"

"It was a mutual thing," he replies, Gendry nodding in confirmation thankfully, Arya probably suspected that the challenge came from him.

That brings a grin to her face, "Want to go against me?" she asks clearly challenging him, it's easy to see it on her face, the determination to best him.

Nodding in agreement, he steps away and turns just in time to hear Gendry whisper in Arya's ear, "His left side, he's favoring it."

The amusement in her voice is clear, "Oh, I know."

"Now how is that right?" he asks the conspiring pair.

"It isn't," Arya replies, shrugging her shoulder.

Ignoring Arya, he looks past her to Gendry, "What's her weakness?" he asks, looking for an edge.

"Me," Gendry says simply a smile on his face as he looks at Arya. They're being deliberately infuriating.

"I know that," he says with a groan, "give me something to use."

Then Arya is in front of him poised and ready to strike, amusement on her face, "What?" he can't help but ask.

"It's just funny that you think I have any weaknesses of that sort, brother, and that even if I did that Gendry would betray my secrets like that," she says between steps around the edges of the makeshift sparing circle, clearly getting ready to attack.

\------

"They get on," Arya says as Gendry leads Meera away so Arya can sit at his side.

"She admires you, and she likes him quite a bit," he says, looking at the pair as they head out of the Godswood.

Focusing now on Arya beside him, he looks at her for a moment before saying what's been obvious since she and Gendry arrived. "You've been avoiding me," she nods at his words. Doing his best to be open, he says what she needs to hear to begin, "Arya, ask me the questions you never thought you could before."

A look of shock flashes over her features for a moment before it fades, "Did you ever get to mourn them, Bran?" she asks, taking his hand and looking him in the eye, she'll know if he lies.

Nodding, "I am now, slowly," he admits breaking down the wall that's between them.

"Did it all have to happen like it did for everyone to survive?" tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

"Yes,"is his answer, his voice getting stuck in his throat.

She shakes her head in disbelief, "We lost half of us," she whispers.

"The pack is larger now than it was when we were children, in time even larger still," he says gripping her hand more securely and looking towards the keep.

Wiping tears from her eyes she asks, "Does Meera count?" in that annoying sisterly way that Sansa sometimes asks him questions in, and he can't help the blush that rises on his face at such a direct question.

She hums as she spots his reaction, letting go of his hand, "The Three-Eyed Raven is in love, what does that mean for the world?"

He can't help but sigh as he corrects her, "I'm in love, but the Three-Eyed Raven is not."

That only puzzles her more, "How does that work?"

"It's complicated," he admits, but Arya of everyone understands complicated.

"What will you two do about it?" she asks, curious now if she can help.

"We're going to do what we want," he says, and clearly she understands that feeling, the desire to be able to have that freedom to decide what to do when you previously didn't have much, if any, control.

He knows the words that will be coming out of her mouth next, and he doesn't even have to look into the future to see it, "Will there be another wedding to attend before I go south again?"

It's not a question he has the answer to but, given a moment's look into that moment in the future, the answer is no, there's children present and babes in their parent's arms who are not yet born, a few years from now at least, he stops the vision before Meera arrives. The future is so much more clear with so little upheaval in the lands, "No, not on this trip," he says unable to keep the grin off his face.

Arya studies him for a minute, a soft voice asking, "Are you, my brother, again?"

"I'm..." he starts, but he needs to tell her more, she won't trust a simple answer, "After the Night King was destroyed, I kept learning to control it better but in the last few months..." he looks in the direction Meera went when she left, "I want..." No, it's too much, too personal, "I'm not the brother you once knew, but I'm closer to myself now."

Arya follows his gaze, "Are you closer to the person she knew before?" she asks softly, calmly as mother would have.

"Yes, I am," he admits after thinking about it for a moment, the last time Arya really knew him was before the fall, he'd changed so much between then and becoming the Three-Eyed Raven and Meera was there to see most of it.

She looks at him as he goes over memories from after that change, her eyes asking silently what's wrong?

"I hurt her when I wasn't myself," he says after a moment, "She's confessed that she's afraid I'll slip away again," he loathes the fact that she hurt for so long because of him.

"Will you?" she asks both for herself and for Meera, unwilling to not know if he'll disappear again.

This at least he can tell her with confidence, "No, that time is over."

"Have you told her that?" she asks, looking at him.

His lack of a response is answer enough it seems. "Oh, Bran why not?" she practically whines, "you should tell her that you are here and you're not leaving again. That's how relationships build; you have to be open and communicate with each other. You can't close yourself off." 

He nods in acknowledgment of her words but acting as she wants him too, it's difficult.

When he looks at Arya again, she's busy studying him, "You're probably hurting her by not telling her you to know. The next time you see her, you should tell her."

The difficult option is so often the right one, so she's probably right in this; her advice is worth acting on. "Thank you for your wisdom."

A cool breeze hits the Godswood, and Arya rearranges her coat and cloak, holding them a little tighter to herself.

"Nymeria is going to have a litter," she says, a smile appearing on her face as she changes the subject.

He only nods in response, "Yes, I know, her mate's territory is north of here."

"Jon told me he saw them when he was flying, a large black direwolf," her excitement is catching, the idea of more pups is truly something to look forward to.

"Would you consider staying till the pups are weaned, leaving one for Sansa? She needs to heal that wound," he asks softly, unsure of what her answer will be.

She laughs, holding a hand out to him, "You can't see that I was already planning on that?"

He takes her offered hand but says nothing. "Bran?" she says as of she's trying to get him out of a vision, "Don't you want one for yourself?"

The idea is not unwelcome but, "I..." he starts, memories washing over him, "I don't know yet if I'm ready. Summer was..." tears run down his cheeks; he can't, not yet.

He retreats into his mind for a moment watching the future of the direwolf pack behind his eyes, "Her mate, I lured him down with some easy hunting. He lost his pack to the army when it made its way south. He'll follow her south once she leaves, they'll reunite again, he's been without a pack for so long."

He's brought back when Arya slips her hand from his.

"Should Gendry go home without me while I wait? Will the Stormlands need him?" she asks, clearly unsure of what answer he will give if any.

That was one of the faults of the Three-Eyed Raven, being too cryptic and vague to be useful, he won't do that now, not with family, "Your lands will be fine. You both should stay."

Arya goes quiet for a long time, clearly rolling one last question in her mind over and over, wondering whether or not it will be worth it to know the truth.

"Gendry and I... can we?" she brings a hand to her abdomen, "Is it even safe for us to try?"

That's a simple enough question, two of the children from his vision, a babe wrapped up in its father's arms and a child holding their mother's hand, and that's only a few years from now.

"You'll be happy," he says, not wanting to give away too many details.

She only sighs disappointed, "We're already happy."

"You'll be happier," it's a compromise, and that's all he'll say about that. Based on Arya's understanding look as his words dawn on her, it was enough.


End file.
